


From the Ashes

by Overlithe



Series: Overlithe's avatar_500 ficlets [7]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: fanfic100, Creepy, Gen, Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlithe/pseuds/Overlithe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“To bend another’s energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted.” AU. Another way Aang’s final confrontation with Ozai could have gone. Written for prompt 19 (light) of the avatar_500 LJ comm and prompt 35 (sixth sense) of the fanfic100 LJ comm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> _Warnings/Notes:_ There’s nothing above a K+ rating, but I’ve tried to aim for Extreme Paranoia Fuel with this one.

  
****  
From the Ashes   
  


 

When the child calling himself the Avatar grabbed him and the world turned into blinding light, there were three things Ozai knew he had to hold on to.

First, that Zhao hadn’t been the only one to pore over scrolls with characters blurred by dust, in places where the stars were strange.

Second, that to be one of the strong was to be unyielding; it was to be empty of doubt and regret, and full only of certainty, bright and burning like a fire blade.

Third, that seeing might be believing, but that was never the whole story; sometimes, believing was seeing.

His senses ripped. Everything turned inside out.

_Only believe._

Only believe.

Only believe.

Only be—

***

The world slammed back. He nearly fell, then staggered to his feet, queasy. His flesh and skin felt like they had been ripped off and only incompetently patched back on.

He took a deep breath; the stench of fire dimmed a little, the aches in his body began to ebb. His hand ran over the faint stubble in his shaved head. When he tried to take a step, his foot slid over some crumbling stone, but he soon had his limbs under control.

He blinked, once, twice, then looked down.

It was strange to look at his body—well, at _the_ body—from outside. It twitched a little on the ground and drooled into its beard. A flicker of horror darted into the eyes.

He leaned down.

‘Thank you, child,’ Ozai whispered into his enemy’s ear.

His new voice sounded jarring, but he was sure he would soon grow used to it.

In a blink, Ozai reached into a vial he had kept in his clothes and forced its contents into his old body’s mouth. The silly little airbender tried to struggle against his flesh prison, but the white liquid was already coursing through his veins; when the mouth opened again, only a wordless groan came out and sweat—cold, no doubt—trickled onto the lips.

He wouldn’t be talking for a while, Ozai knew. If ever.

After all, as he had once told Ursa, the thing about sacrifice was that sometimes—sometimes it was more of a _trade_.

‘You shouldn’t doubt yourself,’ Ozai said, and glanced at the burning forest. Trees burst in showers of sparks, rolling clouds of smoke. His new body was already settling into place, as though he had worn it all his life. He wondered if the Avatar Spirit was still bound to this flesh. Well, he would figure something out no matter what.

He always did.

A small flying animal darted between the rock pillars. Above him, one of the commandeered airships was approaching, glittering in the firelight like some strange jewelled beetle. _I did something to him that means he can’t threaten anyone ever again_. Or “hurt”? Yes, maybe that was better.

‘I never doubt myself,’ he finished, and turned around to meet his new followers.

 

++The End++

 

 **Notes/Disclaimer:** Inspiration for this ficlet, along with the lines “thank you, child” and the one about sacrifice, all came from the 2005 horror movie _The Skeleton Key_. Also, once again I do something horrible to poor Aang. Apparently, there’s some kind of direct correlation between how much I like a character and how much I torment them in my stories… ;)


End file.
